


Twas the Night Before Trouble, Chapter XII

by selyndae



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selyndae/pseuds/selyndae
Summary: The plot thickens...
Kudos: 4
Collections: The Trouble in Times Square Affair





	Twas the Night Before Trouble, Chapter XII

**TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE TROUBLE**

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_**Chapter 12**_

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_**  


Illya leaned back against the wall, on alert, as his partner silently and efficiently dispatched the guard. Neither agent felt any real guilt at the deed; the only innocents in this affair were the trafficking victims. 

He waited, listening intently for a moment. Nothing. Satisfied, he waved Illya over to help move the guard’s body behind the desk. That accomplished, Napoleon strode over to the door, opening it a crack to check on their situation. _So far so good._

“Looks like they really did settle down for the night.” 

“Hey! What about us?” A cacophony of fearful voices flooded over from the various cages,

Instantly, Napoleon whirled around making shushing motions. “Not so loud!” he hissed. Inside the cages, most of the victims were watching warily. Some of the children were crying, which tore at him, but the girls who’d attacked them earlier, glared at the agent with hostile suspicion. “Look,” He offered the caged victims a reassuring smile. “We’ll get you out soon, I promise, Just as soon as we make sure it’s safe.” 

Illya had been putting his time to good use patting down the guard’s body and checking for weapons. When he calmly removing the man’s watch, his partner raised his eyebrows, but started over to the new-looking file cabinet still wrapped in plastic. Finally finished with the body, Illya walked around the desk to rifle through the drawers.

A quick search of the disappointingly empty cabinet and Napoleon strode back to the door to take another listen. He glanced over at his partner, who was down to the bottom drawer. “Anything?”

“Nothing here.” Illya slammed the drawer shut. 

“I suppose it _would_ be a bit much to expect Thrush to leave damaging proofs out in the open. Stuff like names and dates, the buyers—” he grimaced, “—where and when the um, delivery is to take place.”

“Isn’t it just…” The Russian agent froze, eyes narrowed before slowly pulling himself back up. With a frown, he looked around the nearly empty room. “There’s no phone.”

“What?” Napoleon took another look around himself. “That’s odd.” He gestured to the guard’s body. “You didn’t find a communicator?”

A decisive shake of the head. “Nothing. Except the watch. And the rifle.”

Definitely strange. His senses began to twitch, causing him to look sharply at the door again. _Nothing… but something is very wrong. So…what…?_

Just then, a rumbling was heard and the floor began to vibrate intensely! 

**_BOOM!_ **

A huge wall slammed into place, cutting off the cages from the rest of the room!

Shocked, the agents ran over to the wall, pounding. Solid! And soundproof—they could no longer hear the women and children crying inside!

There was no way they could get through it, at least not with what they had on them. Now, more than ever, they needed to escape and contact U.N.C.L.E. immediately!

In desperation, Napoleon began to tap lightly on the walls looking for a hidden compartment, false panel, or even a lever, just in case. 

Illya pulled out desk drawers completely, hoping to find a hidden switch. “Nothing here.” He sounded tired.

Napoleon sighed, having given up the walls as a lost cause; it had been a long shot at best. 

Illya suddenly looked over at the door. “Someone’s coming!” he hissed.

They immediately took up positions on both sides of the door.

The doorknob slowly began to turn. It stopped. Then, the door opened a few inches and a bright light immediately flooded the room, temporarily blinding the agents—they hadn’t expected a flood light!

“We have you covered! No one move!”

Illya’s expression turned stubborn as he slumped against the wall, frustrated.

Napoleon searched his memory. _Something about that voice…_

“Collier?”

The door opened wider to reveal Agent Adams flanked by two others. The light switched off and Adams grinned. “Glad to see you’re here. We were beginning to wonder.” He opened his communicator. “Open Channel L. We have them.”

_“Great timing. We’re almost finished here.”_

“Excellent, Miss Dancer. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point in 5 minutes.”

Adams turned to the door to lead the small group out.

“Wait! We have to get the others first.” 

Adams stopped. “The place is empty. You’re the only ones we found.”

Illya limped back to the thick wall that had so recently appeared. “There are cages on the other side of this wall with young people—children, even. We have to get them out of there!”

Adams shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Illya, but they must have been taken somewhere else. All we found were empty cages.”

Napoleon closed his eyes in despair. “So, that’s it.”

Illya didn’t trust himself to speak.

The small group despondently left the room, Adams deliberately setting a slower pace to accommodate the senior agents’ unhealed injuries. Once outside, they were quickly led through the bitter cold and bundled into a large U.N.C.L.E. van where hot coffee was immediately offered.

“What happened to them?” Illya looked haunted.

Adams looked grim. “There was no one to be found. Not a sign.” He wiped his mouth. “When everyone checks in, we’ll look again, but…it doesn’t look good.”

Napoleon felt somewhat revived from the hot coffee. “The wall only came down, what, ten, fifteen minutes before you found us? Even with an escape route, it would take longer than that to get everyone out and away from here.”

“They may not have taken the...the ‘merchandise,’ but rather decided to— to cut their losses and leave.” Illya’s voice was flat.

“But, that would mean…” 

“Exactly. Thrush doesn’t appreciate witnesses.” 

The van door opened admitting Mark Slate and April Dancer, dressed in matching black sweaters and pants. April slipped over to sit next to Illya and studied the top agents. She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Glad to see the two of you in one piece, boys.”

Mark’s easy grin matched his partners, but faded as he took at closer look at the Chief Enforcement agent. “What’s wrong, mate?”

“They’re gone. Thrush, _Shiv_ , got away with their trafficking.” At Mark and April’s twin looks of horror, he gave a quick rundown of everything, bringing them up to date.

Mark glanced through the window at Adams who had stepped outside to update Waverly via communicator. “Collier’s in charge of this. I’ll see what he has in mind.” At Napoleon’s nod, he opened the door and went back outside.

As soon as the door was closed, Napoleon leaned toward April. “I don’t think we have a lot of time, here. Shiv will be out of the country by the time a full-scale team is dispatched.”

April nodded slowly. “You may be right. Collier is a really good agent, but, um…he’s very regulation-driven. He won’t make a move without Waverly’s explicit okay.”

The van door opened and Mark slipped back inside, a swirl of snow in his wake. “He’s in touch with Mr. Waverly. A special team will be here as soon as possible, but since there’s a blizzard raging, it’ll be close to an hour.” He blew on his hands. “It’s really coming down now. I guess the only good thing is, it should delay Thrush, too.”

Illya started to pull himself up, then sat back down with a groan.

“Illya?” Napoleon was very concerned. His partner had almost died, and now, after all this…

“I am fine.” Seeing his partner’s expression, he added quickly, “It’s not that. It’s my memory. _How_ could I have forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?”

“This is one of the latest fleet of surveillance vans.”

“Okay…?”

“It’s equipped with the new prototype of Radio-radar.”

“Radio-radar? What—”

“It’s a new application that uses ultralow radio waves as a kind of radar. With it, we can search through solids, like ground penetrating radar, for openings like caves, or we can actually see through walls. We then interpret the resulting images as people or objects. Because it’s in real time, we can see actual movement as it happens. It’s still in extensive testing, but the preliminary results are phenomenal. An added benefit is not harming the operator _or_ anyone being scanned.”

“Wow.” Napoleon’s puzzled expression cleared. “What do we need to do?”

“We’ll need to get closer for starters. The equipment is mostly built into the van.” April grinned at Napoleon’s start of surprise. 

“Except for the scanning transmitter. That has to be set up near the targeted area.” Mark started to move up front. “Good thing it’s a warehouse.”

“How come everyone seems to know about this equipment except me?” muttered Napoleon.

April patted his arm consolingly. “It’s still a prototype. It’ll probably be _years_ before it’s standard equipment.”

Illya looked up, his expression mischievous. “I shouldn’t worry about it, Napoleon. You keep track of so many... _other_ things.”

The van was quickly driven into the warehouse, Napoleon pointing out the location of the false wall in the room they so recently vacated. Nodding, the driver backed the van into place, shifted into park, and gave Illya the keys, 

“I’ll help in back.”

Illya nodded, now wholly focused on setting up the equipment at his end while the others climbed out to locate the scanning transmitter to the desk. Mark started attaching the large cable to the transmitter. Once attached, he would pay out the cable to screw into its external port above the rear bumper of the van.

A sharp rap on the passenger side door startled Illya, before it opened abruptly. “ ** _What_** _is going on here?_ ” demanded Adams.

Illya, in the process of warming up the unit, looked sheepishly at the agent in charge. “I just remembered about the Radio-radar being in the van. If the trafficking victims are still behind that wall, this should show it!” He turned back to the lighted display.

Adams climbed into the van to sit next to Illya. He pulled the door shut before moving closer. “I really wish you hadn’t done that,” he murmured, reaching over to activate the van’s automatic locks and electric charge.

“What are you…?” Illya’s question trailed off as he looked at Adams—the Special with silencer aimed inches away from his heart. “What’s going on here, Collier?”

“I’m sorry, Illya, but I really can’t allow you to interfere with this.”

Illya leaned back and sighed. “Thrush?”

“Unimportant. Instead, I suggest you think of a way to get us out of here quickly, and preferably quietly.” His lips twitched in amusement at Illya’s expression of disbelief. “It’s that or I _flambé_ your partner with the flamethrower. Up to you.” He gestured with his weapon. “Drive.”

Illya, seeing the turncoat agent’s free hand poised near the flamethrower controls, slouched back momentarily defeated. Then, with a shrug, glanced in the side mirrors to see that everyone was clear before flooring it!


End file.
